


Unexpected Depths

by shadeshifter



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadeshifter/pseuds/shadeshifter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(or five times Steve surprised his teammates an one time he surprised Fury).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the avengers kinkmeme and the prompt: "I want Steve's brains and amazingness. Give me five times Steve shocks one of the Avengers and one time he shocks Director Fury."
> 
> Eternal thanks go to [Aria_Lerendeair](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Lerendeair/profile) for all of her help.
> 
> Okay, so I took a rather broad definition of shock. And I wrote the Fury scene first. So now I'm trying to catch up to it. Also, they aren’t all BAMF!surprises, but I hope that’s alright.  
> Warning: everything I know about Captain America comes from the movies, Wikipedia or other fanfics.

Before Thor leaves with Loki and the tesseract, the team goes out for shawarma and then drinks. Bruce begs off after one beer. He doesn’t deal well with loss of inhibition. Neither does anyone around him. Although, Thor does wonder if the Hulk would not be more amenable or less if he emerged from an intoxicated Bruce.

Clint and Natasha leave next. Clint’s still mourning Coulson and Natasha is watching him closely. When it looks like he’s inclined to indulge too much, Natasha claims exhaustion and asks Clint to take her home. Thor regrets their departure, but he is still learning the customs of Midgard, and those connected to grief seem the most complicated.

That leaves Tony, Thor and Steve. Tony is on his sixth drink of the evening and Steve is still nursing his first beer. Thor thinks this is a lamentable situation.

“Friend Steve, do you not wish to celebrate our victory by consuming alcohol and singing songs of praise?”

“I can’t get drunk, Thor,” Steve says with a shrug.

“Of course not, these beverages are weak and little suited to the task.”

“No, I mean I can’t get drunk. At all. Ever.”

“”S true,” Tony murmurs, raising his drink in emphasis and indicating vaguely in Steve’s direction. so that it sloshes over the side. He looks at the spill mournfully before refocusing on Thor. “’S the serum. Can’t even get a sugar rush or caffeine high.”

“That is most undesirable.”

“A contest!” Tony declares.

“Indeed!” Thor agrees enthusiastically. He claps Tony on the shoulder so that Tony almost falls out of his chair. Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Come, friend, we have won a great victory and must raise our glasses in remembrance of Son of Coul.”

“I’m not entirely sure how a drinking contest will do that,” Steve says, eyebrows raising in scepticism.

“I once bested the frost giants when I attempted to drink the oceans. Asgard’s valour proved great that day.” Thor grins at Steve and Tony looks at him earnestly, if a little blearily.

“Fine,” Steve says after a moment, “but I’m not taking responsibility for your hangovers.”

Sometime later, they’ve all lost track, Thor slaps the table with one hand causing the accumulated bottles to rattle together and one perched precariously to fall over the edge and land with a clunk on the floor where it rolls under the table. Thor follows the motion until the bottle disappears from view, then blinks and turns back to Steve.

“I must concede, friend Steve. Your prowess in this endeavour far outstrips my own.” He sways in place but is glad that he’s managed to speak his thoughts clearly. “I must bring Asgardian mead when next I return.”

“A good scientific experiment requires a large sample group,” Tony agrees, carefully enunciating each word before he slumps sideward into Steve. Steve sighs but doesn’t move.

“To friends,” Steve toasts, knocking back the last of his drink. Thor echoes him. Tony snores softly.


	2. Bruce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research on 1930s education in America and found out that a number of schools pretty much stopped teaching maths and science, and those that did often had textbooks with pages missing. I briefly did FRD’s five-year plans in history about 10 years ago and not much else re: 1930’s America, so I have to go with ‘if it’s on the internet it must be true’. Also, I probably know less about science than Steve does.

Bruce becomes aware of Steve hovering awkwardly just at the edge of his vision. This is both unusual behaviour and a little strange, because Bruce hadn’t known a man Steve’s size could actually hover.

“Something you need, Captain?” he asks, looking up from his book.

“I was just doing some reading. It’s not anything too important really, but if you have a moment, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?”

“Sure,” Bruce says, turning to give Steve his full attention.

“It’s uh... about the serum, the one they used on me,” Steve continues a little hesitantly. Bruce sighs. It’s not exactly his favourite topic, and clearly someone had mentioned to Steve that he’d been experimenting with the formula when whole Other Guy thing happened. Still, there aren’t many other people Steve can go to discuss these sorts of questions.

“Sit down and I’ll see what I can answer.”

Steve sits, placing several folders on the table. There is one with Steve’s name on it, one with ‘Project: Rebirth’ and a large ‘Classified’ stamp on the front, and a thick one without any identifying features.

“They didn’t really explain the whole process to me,” Steve says. “Just that I was going to undergo a procedure that would make me better, more... well, more everything really, so I thought I’d do my own research.” He unconsciously rests a hand on the thick, unmarked folder and Bruce, almost despite himself, is impressed. He knows he shouldn’t be, Steve is clearly intelligent even if he is often out of his depth, but Bruce is still taken aback. Then what Steve’s actually said filters through.

“You didn’t know what exactly was going to happen to you?” Bruce asks in a surprisingly calm voice for the anger that’s simmering too close to the surface.

“Not really.” Steve shrugs like it’s no big deal and Bruce really wants to take him by the shoulders and shake him. He’s a scientist. He’s also the victim of a failed experiment. He considers things like informed consent sacred. He wants to let the Hulk loose, but the focus of his rage no longer exists. Everyone connected to the project is dead. Everyone but Steve, who has no idea what happened to his own body. “From what I could gather, the serum contained a retrovirus that was activated by a specific kind of radiation, which self-replicates in my system and therefore will never need to be replenished.”

“Uh... right,” Bruce says slowly, eyeing Steve. “Where did you learn all that?” Because knowing about retroviruses is a far cry from what he’s been led to believe about Steve’s knowledge of science.

“Oh, well I asked SHIELD for the files from the project and I remembered that Tony said I should get used to skating the internet and Jarvis showed me Wikipedia. It’s really nifty. And there’s this site with videos where you can watch documentaries and lectures for free. Although, sometimes there are videos of people falling in rather painful ways and lots of cats,” Steve adds with a confused frown.

“Surfing,” Bruce corrects absently. He makes a note to have a discussion with Tony about leaving Steve to the vagaries of the internet. Especially YouTube. He’s also not sure who should inform the Captain that those documentaries were likely infringing a number of copyright laws and probably illegal. Bruce considers leaving that to Tony, but it’s a very cruel punishment. “I didn’t know you were interested in science,” Bruce says finally.

“Oh,” Steve says and then looks away embarrassed. “Well, everyone knows a bit of science these days. I mean, enough to get by.” Bruce had heard about the scene on the carrier. It was one of Tony’s favourite rants when Steve has particularly annoyed him. “And it helps that none of the books have missing pages.” Steve flushes a little and starts fiddling with his notes. And doesn’t that make Bruce just feel awful. He’s never really bothered to ask if Steve wanted to learn anything more, just assumed that being a soldier and having studied art before that, that he wouldn’t really be interested.

“Let’s have a look at what information they have and what you’ve managed to gather, then I’ll take you through the process I used,” Bruce says. Steve smiles gratefully at him and if his own smile is a little wan in return, it doesn’t seem to discourage Steve any.


	3. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks go to the ever patient Aria_Lerendeair, who gave meaning to the paintings.

Occasionally, Natasha goes to art shows or galleries. She doesn’t care about the artists, or even the art, really. Sometimes she just needs to get out of her head a little and the easiest way to do that is to get inside someone else’s. This is how she finds herself at an art show for some or other new artist, there are plenty to spare in New York, on a Friday night.

The room is sparsely populated, a good crowd, but not enough to make her feel uncomfortable. She wonders slowly over to the first painting. It’s entitled ‘self-portrait’. It’s of a small, almost sickly figure looking into a convex mirror. The features are indistinct and upside down, but it’s the background that captures her attention. Behind the figure is an expanse of ice. Beneath the frozen surface is the faintest outline of people. Corpses. Despite herself, she thinks of Steve.

She doesn’t think too deeply on it when she moves to ‘Blacksmith’ – a figure bent over an anvil, crafting the beginnings of something. She’s not sure what. The embers in the furnace glow red and gold.

She quite likes ‘Gladiolus’. The petals of the flowers gleam the rust-red colour of her hair and the long, thin, blade-like leaves are tipped in red. Even the crisp blue background reminds her of the colour of cold, winter skies back in Russia. It is both comforting and uncomfortable. She quickly moves on to the next.

‘Exile’ is simply an empty throne. Shadows play across the background in a manner that makes it confusing to determine where the light source is located. Across the backrest, a swathe of red material is haphazardly draped, stark against the muted surroundings. She smiles a little.

‘Bird’s eye’ is a view of New York. It’s from an aerial perspective, but not one with which she’s familiar. She thinks it might be the Empire State Building, but the skyline in the distance is sparsely populated by buildings and the architecture all looks old-fashioned. It feels removed, in time and space, distanced and lonely.

The final painting on this side of the room is ‘Schism’. It’s all bleak blacks and whites and greys. A small, pale figure dwarfed by a dark mass. The shadow leans over the man and it’s a threat and protection all at once. A shiver runs down her spine before she can control the reaction. It’s Bruce and the Hulk. It’s how he chased her and saved Stark.

She looks around the gallery, really looks at all the paintings, as a whole. Instead of some paintings that individually remind her of a little of her team members, it feels like the entire team is stripped bare to their exposed nerves and displayed on these walls.

There’s more. A woman dancing alone. An empty room with a single suitcase, packed, resting neatly by the door. Images that remind her at once of bombsites and the aftermath of the Chitauri.

A flash of anger and humiliation shoots through her. They have no right. No right at all to expose her team like this. She scans the room, hand resting on her hip, fingers pressing into the handle of a concealed knife. Finally, she spots a tall figure, impressively hunched to look inconspicuous, in the corner of the room. Her eyes widen.

“What the hell is going on, Rogers?” she demands, trying to keep her voice level as she pulls him further away from the gathering, deeper into the shadows. He goes with her, unresisting.

“Oh, uh, Natasha,” he stutters, not quite meeting her eyes, but not cowed into looking away. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Why are our lives strewn all over these walls?”

“I... that’s not... it’s not our lives exactly.”

“Then whose?”

“Mine.”

That stops her short for a moment. His? But there’s Tony, the blacksmith; Thor, the exiled prince; Bruce’s dual struggle, Clint’s distance in all ways, Steve’s loss, her... She must be ‘Gladiolus’. She’s not sure how she feels about that. She not a flower. She’s not delicate. Steve follows her gaze and shuffles his feet, uncomfortable.

“It’s called the sword lily. It means strength and moral integrity.”

“Oh,” she says, because she’s not sure how to react to that. “If this isn’t our lives then what is it?” Steve folds his arms, a defensive move, but she’s interrogated more men than she can count and she knows Steve will answer. It doesn’t matter if he answers because he defers to women or because he feels obligated to a teammate.

“It’s how I see you, what you all mean to me.” He looks deeply uncomfortable. “No one was supposed to know. It’s not even my name on the artwork.” She thinks she recalls something about ‘Barnes’ being the artist, so she’s willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I can get them to take down the whole thing,” he offers. She hates how earnest he can be. She hates that she knows he really would do it, that he’s not just offering to appease her.

“It’s fine,” she tells him, resting a hand on his tense forearm. “They’re really are very good,” she concedes. “People should see them.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, tension leeching out of him. He smiles at her, pleased and grateful. She still buys ‘Gladiolus’ and ‘Bird’s eye’, and considers giving one to Clint.


	4. Clint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the internet says Steve has fearsome gymnastic/acrobatic abilities. If the internet says it, it must be true.

Clint feels unaccustomed warmth as he looks up at Stark Tower. Tony swears he’s changing the name, just so he won’t have something in common with Loki, but a lonely ‘A’ is still all that hangs off the top of the tower. His mission wasn’t very long, but it is the first since Loki, and he’s glad to be back.

Clint pauses when he sees someone leaving the building. The tall, broad-shouldered frame is evidently that of their leader. They all know he wakes up at ridiculous hours to go running, but it’s barely past 5:00. The only people out now are those who haven’t bothered to go to bed yet. Even the hard core runners won’t be out for another 30 minutes to an hour.

Steve looks around furtively before he checks the fit of his fingerless gloves and the pulls up the hood of his unremarkable, dark grey sweatshirt. If that’s not suspicious, Clint doesn’t know what is. He hesitates for a moment, curiosity warring with consideration. Consideration gives up without much of a fight and Clint moves forward, sticking to the shadows.

His fearless leader takes a moment shake out his wrists and warm up his ankles before he takes one more look around, and then begins a light jog down the road. Clint follows for a ways, wondering if Steve’s really just that paranoid and if he should bail and see if he can sneak an hour in Tony’s personal hot tub for half an hour. Tony’s usually in the lab anyway. He probably wouldn’t notice.

Clint’s about to break off pursuit when Steve vaults over the hood of a car, grabs onto the railing beyond and slides smoothly between the bars. Clint speeds up, wondering if Steve’s detected some sort of crime that he’s intent on interrupting or a kitten trapped in a tree that needs rescuing. When he catches sight of Steve again, the man is pushing off a wall and leaping onto a scaffolding platform. It’s like something out of Clint’s computer games. He grins and hurries to catch up.

Steve glances back once when he hears someone next to him, but he doesn’t lose his focus. They both swing down the scaffolding, leaping from one pole to the next. It becomes a competition to see who can do the most skilful stunts with the least fumbling. The last thing Clint would have expected of Steve was something like this. They move away from the scaffolding and scramble up a fire escape, then it’s across rooftops, vaulting over AC units and leaping across the gaps between buildings.

Finally, Clint has to slow his pace. He’s not a super soldier and, though not complicated, the mission did take a toll on him. They slide down to ground level and start back in the direction of Stark Tower.

“So, how did you get into parkour?” Clint asks when he’s caught his breath. Steve shrugs.

“I wanted to know New York.”

“You couldn’t do that at a sedate pace at street level?” Clint asks. It’s not a criticism, that would be entirely too hypocritical from him, but he is curious.

“That’s how tourists learn a city,” Steve says. He wipes a hand down his face and sighs. “It’s different for people who belong to a place.”

Clint’s never really belonged to a place. Sometimes to people or to an organisation, but never really to a place, so he’s not sure he gets it.

“When you’re a kid,” Steve says, seeing Clint’s confusion, “you play games in the streets and alleys, you hunt out the city’s hiding places. It becomes something more. Something part of you.”

“So, is that what you’re doing? Learning the secrets of the city?”

“This city isn’t my New York anymore,” Steve says, yet the look he gives Clint is an optimistic one. “But I’m hoping it can be again.”

They walk in silence for a moment as Clint absorbs that.

“Would you mind some company next time?”

“Not at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I know about Parkour, I learned from YouTube.


	5. Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t all that BAMF, or at all really. Um, I plead intractable muses. My surprising!Steve has determined that none of his surprises will be battle-related.

Tony is not impressed. He’s sprawled on the living room floor where any of his teammates could wonder in and find him, Jarvis refuses to hunt down Thor, and Mjolnir’s stuck on his stomach.

It’s a very interesting sensation, he can feel it’s presence in pressure and texture, but there’s no weight. He wonders if there’s a way to measure that. He’ll have to bounce some ideas off of Bruce. He tries to move it, but it doesn’t budge.

Just when Tony thinks it can’t get any worse he hears the sound of footsteps. He cranes his neck to see who it might be and doesn’t it just perfectly round off a rather awful day that it’s Steve.

“Tony?”

“Yeah, that would be me.” He gives a slight wave. Steve frowns at him. Wonderful, Tony’s the textbook definition of a captive audience and Steve looks like he’s about to launch into one of his speeches about life, liberty and the pursuit of boredom.

“What did you do to Thor?” Steve asks, the smallest hint of disapproval furrowing his brow.

“What did I do? Shouldn’t you go berate him for endangering his teammates?”

Steve continues to stare at him until Tony begins to feel uncomfortable. He’s not supposed to be guilt tripped by someone more than a decade younger than him. Time to pull out the big guns.

“It’s hurting me, Steve,” Tony tries. Concern floods Steve’s expression before it’s smoothed over.

“If that was truly the case, Jarvis would have informed Thor.”

Damn. He missed the good old days when Steve didn’t know better.

“Yeah well, you don’t know what kind of long-term effects this might have on my organs. Everything’s been a bit sensitive since the whole...” Tony waves vaguely at his chest, still not comfortable with thinking about what had happened, never mind talking about it.

“What did you do, Tony?”

“Nothing!” he objects immediately. Well, alright, he’ll admit, to himself at least, that that’s not entirely true. “Thor might have become frustrated with my scientific curiosity.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. Okay, so Tony had been bugging for a while – only a few days, a week at most – about having a closer look at Thor’s hammer, which he could concede might have been annoying. But Thor had blown his criticism of Doctor Foster’s scientific skills completely out of proportion. Honestly, she had access to a Norse god and a mystical weapon and she hadn’t done one test?

“Is this something Miss Lewis is going to taser you for?” Steve asks, intuitively reaching the conclusion that, when it comes to his teammates, Jane is the only thing Thor would really lose his cool over. Steve folds his arms across his chest and looks imperiously down at Tony. Tony pouts, hoping to engender some sort of sympathy from the man, but it seems he’s the only one Steve is immune to.

“No. Well, I don’t think so. Probably not,” he decides eventually. It’s a safe answer. Although, now that he thinks about it, he’s never subjected the arc reactor to direct electricity. Vanko’s whips and Thor’s lightning were all mediated through the suit. He wonders if he can get Bruce to give it a go. “You’re in charge of him, can’t you order him to come fetch it?”

“I’m as in charge of him as I am of you,” Steve says. Tony does not appreciate the amusement shining in the other man’s eyes. He’ll need to come up with something suitably horrifying in return. Maybe he can convince Steve that the SPCA desperately needs him to pose for a semi-nude calendar to raise enough funds that they don’t need to put to sleep all the puppies and kittens in their care.

“Fine,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes. He strides forward and, before Tony can scoff at the fact that he’s forgotten only Thor can pick it up, lifts the hammer with barely any effort and puts it down on the floor beside them.

“No way,” Tony murmurs as he scrambles to his feet. He puts his hands around the handle and tries to lift it himself, because there has to be some trick, but it remains immovable. This was just so not fair.

“What?”

“Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor,” Tony quotes, looking at Steve expectantly. Steve gives a little shrug and shuffles his feet in discomfit.

“I’m sure it’s just a strength thing,” Steve insists, “the Hulk can probably lift it, too.”

“No,” Tony says firmly, having seen the helicarrier footage, “he can’t.”

“Oh.”

God, Steve really does live up to the legend. Tony’s never met anyone so ridiculously modest. He still doesn’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.

“Okay, Steve,” Tony says, gripping Steve by the shoulders and looking at him solemnly. “I need you to do something absolutely vital for me.”

“Of course,” Steve answers immediately. “What do you need?”

“I need you to take the hammer down to my lab.”

“No.” Steve even folds his arms across his chest. That means he’s serious.

“I’m not going to do anything to damage it,” Tony assures him. “I don’t know if that’s even possible.”

“No, Tony. It’s Thor’s and he doesn’t want you to.”

“He doesn’t have to know.” Tony knows it’s the wrong tack as soon as the words leave his mouth. Okay, so Steve’s unfailing honesty? Definitely a bad thing.

“Jarvis, where’s Thor?”

“He is in the gym, Captain Rogers.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be a tattle tale,” Tony says. He will eternally deny that there is a hint of a whine in his voice. Steve sighs and rubs at his eyes as though he has a headache, which is obviously impossible. Tony wonders if he should maybe feel a little bad.

“I’m not going to tell him, Tony.”

Abruptly, Steve spins on his heel and makes for the door.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“To the gym.”

“But that’s in completely the wrong direction. And Thor’s there.” Tony’s not too keen for Thor to know that he’s escaped the hammer’s containment. It hasn’t been nearly enough time for Thor to cool down.

“I know.”

“Come on, it’ll only take five minutes,” Tony insists, moving to follow him out. Steve huffs a frustrated sigh and casts one last, longing glance back at the hammer. Tony decides that now might be a good time to exercise the better part of valour he’s heard so much about.


	6. Fury

Fury can see most of the team has stopped giving him their full attention, if he ever had it. Even Rogers’ gaze has slid away from him. The Avengers have been a bad influence on him. Fury can only hope that it is mitigated by the good influence Rogers has been on them. He decides to end the briefing with a final piece of news. There is no easy way to reveal it without just ripping off the Band-Aid.

“Coulson will bring you up to speed on your next mission.”

There is a moment of silence where they all absorb the information. Finally, Barton pushes his chair back and leaves the room without a word. Romanov flashes a glare in his direction before rising and following the sharpshooter. Stark rises to his feet.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Stark says, slamming his hand down on the table. Banner twitches a little, but Fury gives no reaction. “This is bullshit, Fury. Where do you get off keeping that from us? Lying to us!”

Banner lightly touches Stark’s arm and the man scoffs, but he shuts his mouth. Perhaps Fury hasn’t given Banner enough credit. Stark turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Fury makes a note to set Hill on looking for any signs of hacking or tampering with files for the next while. Banner glances in Rogers’ direction, waiting for a small nod from the Captain, before he, too, leaves. Fury feels satisfaction at the way the team is pulling together.

“Is that all, sir?” Rogers’ voice is clipped, polite but distant.

“Yes, Captain, it is.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Dismissed.” Fury watches Rogers, for once not certain where the man stands. Rogers’ face is curiously blank, but his eyes are sharp, intense even.

“Sir,” Rogers acknowledges as he stands. “There’s something you should be aware of, sir.”

“What’s that Captain?”

“There’s nothing like a common threat to unify a disparate team like the Avengers.”

Fury’s mouth pulls down in a frown. He’s well aware of the many ways that statement could be taken, the warning it implies. Coulson’s death unified and motivated them. At the time, it had been a necessary measure.

“Then we’re in agreement,” he persists. Rogers cocks his head to the side and Fury feels like he’s being judged. It’s not something he appreciates generally, even less from a subordinate.

“No sir, I don’t think we are.”

“And why’s that, soldier?” Fury asks, running out of patience.

“As a team, we may argue, we may not agree on methods or procedure, we may not even like each other much, but we do trust each other.”

“Your point?”

“The biggest threat we could face is mistrust and suspicion. I don’t take kindly to threats to my people. Sir.”

The last is added as an after-thought. A clear indication to Fury of what exactly Rogers thinks of him. The Captain is military, he follows orders, but he’s shown his ability to flaunt them when he feels like it. And it’s not an uncommon occurrence. The problem with the serum, Fury decides, is that they gave it to someone like Rogers and now he’s stuck with him.

“You’re over-stepping your place, Captain.”

Rogers’ eyes are cold and hard, like the ice that held him for almost 70 years.

“My place is protecting my team, sir. A role you assigned me. And one I take very seriously.”

Fury pauses for a long moment before he steeples his hands in front of him.

“Your concerns are noted, Captain.”

“Then we are in agreement?” Rogers pushes.

Fury glowers at him, jaw clenched.

“We are,” he says, as though it is a sanction, not a concession. He will need new methods of keeping the Avengers on task.

“Very well, sir. If I may be dismissed.”

Fury gives him the barest of nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. Feedback is always appreciated.


End file.
